


a number of things (that weren't important yesterday)

by oakleaf_bearer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 5, Swearing, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29657079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakleaf_bearer/pseuds/oakleaf_bearer
Summary: There was a pause, then Jon's office door was wrenched open.Tim was on his feet in a second, reaching for his friend."Jon, what happened?"Jon staggered towards him. Blood was running down his face, dripping off his chin, his eyes wild and unfocused. His shirt was slowly soaking through with blood, more of it seeping down from a cut on his neck, and as he reached for Tim, he saw a large, blistering burn across his right hand."Tim-" His voice was ragged and pained. "You're alive."-jon goes back to s1 to stop the apocalypse before it begins, taking a few souvenirs with him
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 120
Kudos: 526





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> cw  
> -blood and gore  
> -hospitals  
> -nightmares

It was a slow day in the archives, the hours dragging out in a frustrating trickle. The quiet was almost oppressive, the dull background noises deafened by the press of the dirt around the basement that the archives called home. 

Tim had been working on a case for most of the morning, gathering information on a statement that Jon had given him with a quiet mutter about how ridiculous it was. Sasha was pouring over a book she'd got from the library, scribbling notes onto a piece of scrap paper, the scratch of her pencil a calming backdrop to Tim's own research. Martin had wandered off to make tea a few minutes earlier while he waited for a relative of a statement giver to call him back.

A loud thud and the sound of several things falling sounded from Jon's office, followed by muffled cursing. Tim glanced over at Sasha and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged. 

"Jon!" He called. "You good in there?" 

There was a pause, then Jon's office door was wrenched open. 

Tim was on his feet in a second, reaching for his friend. 

"Jon, what happened?"

Jon staggered towards him. Blood was running down his face, dripping off his chin, his eyes wild and unfocused. His shirt was slowly soaking through with blood, more of it seeping down from a cut on his neck, and as he reached for Tim, he saw a large, blistering burn across his right hand. 

"Tim-" His voice was ragged and pained. "You're alive."

"Yeah, I- Jon, what the hell happened?" Tim caught him just as his knees gave out. He looped his arms under Jon's, trying to ignore the way the blood made his narrow shoulders slick. 

"Martin!" Sasha called, grabbing the first aid kit that they had managed to convince Elias to install. "Martin!!"

"Yeah?" Martin poked his head out of the break room. His eyes widened at the site of Jon's unconscious form against Tim. "What happened?" 

"Call an ambulance. Go!" Sasha shooed him away. "Tim, get him on the floor." 

Tim lowered him as carefully as he could. Sasha grabbed a pair of scissors off his desk and cut his shirt off him, apologising under her breath. 

Tim swore. Under the blood, Jon's chest was covered in small circular wounds, with more injuries littered here and there. 

"Sasha..."

"I know. She glanced up at him. "I know."

"How-"

"Tim, focus. Hand here." She grabbed his hand and put it over a deep cut on Jon's arm. It was seeping blood. "Put pressure on that. We need to try and stop the bleeding." 

"Right, right, okay." Tim fought down the bile rising up in his throat. Memories of clowns, of his brother- He shook them away. 

Jon needed him. Tim could focus. 

He covered the cut with his hands, pressing down in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Sasha was the trained first aider, but Tim had some experience from his more active hobbies. One too many slips and falls on a hike had encouraged him to get at least some basic training. He knew his way around an injury, but this... He was out of his depth. Sasha babbled somethings about blood loss and bandages and it all went over Tim's head. 

"Oh my god..." Sasha swiped away some of the blood from Jon's hand, revealing the extent of the burn there. Tim gagged, doubling over Jon's body. "Tim, stay with me. Come on, I need you to stay here, okay? Oh _Jesus Christ,_ Jon." 

There was another gash across his neck, this one much thinner than the one on his arm, almost sickeningly careful in its neatness. 

Martin reappeared in the doorway. "Paramedics are on their way, I told Rosie to let them in. What can I do?" 

"Put your hand here." She directed him to one of the patches of blood on his leg that was darker than the others, the fabric shiny and saturated from the wound it was hiding. "Don't move. All we can do is wait for the paramedics."

"That's it?" Tim could feel himself shaking. He'd known Jon years, he refused to let him bleed out on the floor of their spooky work. "There has to be something else." 

"Tim, he's bleeding too much for us to do anything. This is so far beyond anything I can do."

The wait for the paramedics was horrible, the adrenaline coursing through Tim's body driving him to move, go, find whatever did this to Jon, but he stayed still, watching as his friend slowly bled out, his bloody cheeks turning gradually more grey. 

-

The cacophony of the hospital was a steady, awful backdrop to Tims thoughts. He was tired, his neck had an uncomfortable crick thanks to a night spent in a hospital waiting room. He wanted to shower, he wanted to scream, and most of all, he wanted Jon to wake up. 

A nurse hurried past, clipboard in hand, a chipper customer service smile on his face. 

Tim thumbed at the cuff of his shirt. Some of Jon's blood was dried onto the seam. Martin was doing a run round everyone's flats for a change of clothing and some basic hygiene items, but until he got back Tim was alone with his thoughts. 

A phone rang. Someone took a little too long to answer it, letting the sound ring out through the waiting room. 

With nothing better to do than mope, Tim dozed. 

-

Tim was in an empty wax museum. It wasn't a place he knew, but in a strange way he recognised the pillars and harsh smell of smoke that set his teeth on edge with a quiet rage. 

Jon was curled up on the floor next to him, a too big t-shirt drowning the tired droop of his narrow shoulders. 

"Hey boss."

Jon looked up at him. "Hello Tim."

"You alright?" 

Jon shrugged. "I guess so. How do you feel?"

Tim frowned. "I- I don't know. Angry, I think?"

Jon nodded sagely. "That makes sense."

"Is it worth asking what this place is?"

Jon sighed and leant backwards until he was laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. "I have a headache."

Sitting next to him, Tim examined the bandages across Jon's hand and neck. "I thought you didn't get sick."

Jon smiled. There was no light behind it. "Not anymore. It's just- I can't see very well here. It's in its nature."

"You should get your eyes tested."

That got a laugh. It was short, more surprised than actual humour. "You'd be surprised to find out how accurate that statement is." Jon frowned suddenly. "Not statement. That's the wrong word." 

"Workaholic." Tim accused. 

"Ha. Yeah."

Humming, Tim lay down next to Jon, feeling the way the floor cracked beneath him. "What happens when I wake up? Do you go back to being in a coma."

"Not sure. I'm more lucid here. I wonder why?"

"Where is here?"

"Spoilers."

Somewhere in the distance, a quiet rumble of thunder started. It shook the floor under them. Tim sat up and watched chunks of the ceiling crumble and fall away, far too slowly. "Boss?"

"It's alright, Tim. It can't hurt us this time."

-

"Tim." Sasha's voice woke him up. He blinked against the harsh lights of the waiting room and looked up at her. She looked as exhausted as he felt. 

"Any updates?"

Sasha took a deep breath. "The doctor says he lost a lot of blood. It's- It's impressive that he's alive. Still no sign of Elias, I called Rosie and she said he was off on a business trip and not answering his phone." 

Tim let out a long, unsteady breath. "Sash...."

"Yeah." She dropped down next to him, placing a calming hand on his knee. "It's all a bit shit." 

"I just... I don't want him to die." 

"Of course not, he's our friend." 

He slumped down in his chair. "I love him, you know? Not like that, just- I've known him for years. My first day in Research, this scrawny little jackass showed up and sat at the desk next to mine and now-" He waved a hand at the waiting room around them. "Now I'm sat waiting to hear if he's going to live or if- I need him to live."

"He will." 

"Will he? Can we be sure? He wasn't exactly healthy before a ghost or whatever put him through a blender, what if he just isn't strong enough? He used to smoke, Sasha. I don't think he's eaten anything in the last 48 hours. When we used to do stakeouts together, he thought those old lady mints were enough food." 

Sasha chuckled softly. "That sounds like Jon." 

Tim covered her hand with his own. She laced their fingers together and gave him an encouraging squeeze. "I want him to be okay." He whispered. She hummed softly and leant over to rest her head on his shoulder. One of her fingers traced calming lines across his knuckles. 

"Hey guys." Martin dropped a bag onto the chair next to them. "I got all the stuff." 

Tim pulled open the bag and found the shirt that Martin had bought for him. He found the bathroom and shrugged out of his dirty shirt, pulling the fresh one on gratefully. He caught sight of his haggard reflection in the mirror and stuck out his tongue at it. 

When he got back to Sasha and Martin, they were talking to a doctor that Tim faintly remembered. 

The doctor showed them into the room, offering to give them a moment with Jon. He was stretched out on the bed, his torso and legs covered in the thin blanket in a cheap mockery of sleep.

Strangely, the peace was most unlike Jon. 

Tim pulled up one of the plastic chairs by the bed and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Come on, you bastard. Wake up." 

Sasha let out a quiet laugh. "He's never done as he's told."

"There's a first time for everything." Martin hummed, sitting next to Tim and carefully placing a hand over Jon's. 

Tim stared at Jon, trying to see past the bandages to his old friend, desperately searching for some hint that he was fine, that they would be okay, that this was a blip in their story rather than the end. 

"Oh my god." 

Tim's head snapped around and he was on his feet in an instant. "Um, this is a private room." 

The woman who had just walked in had the decency to look at least somewhat embarrassed. "Oh, sorry, Georgie Barker." She pointed at herself. "I'm Jon's emergency contact? The doctors called me, they said there had been an accident." She sighed and dropped her bag at the foot of Jon's bed. Crossing around to the head of the bed, she stroked a piece of Jon's hair off his forehead. "What happened to him?"

Tim shrugged. "To be honest, we have no idea. He was in his office, and then-" He waved a hand at Jon's bandages. "Something made him look like he'd lost a fight with a cheese grater." 

"Really? That's it?" 

"Trust me, we wish we had more answers." Sasha said. 

Georgie looked at her. "And who are you lot?"

"His coworkers." Tim said, at the same time that Martin said "His friends." Tim glanced at him, but he was staring at Georgie with an inscrutable expression. 

"I didn't know how to get in touch with any family members." Sasha piped up. 

Georgie shook her head. "He doesn't have any. It was just him and his grandmother, but she died a few years ago I think. Last I heard, that was it. I don't even think he had any cousins."

Tim's heart broke a little bit. He glanced at Sasha and saw that she was desperately fighting down pity for Jon as well. 

"This happened when he was at work?"

"He was in his office, something did," Tim gestured at Jon. " _this_ to him, and then he came stumbling out asking if we were okay." 

"And you didn't see anything?" 

Sasha shook her head. "His door was shut. I've checked through the archives, I couldn't find any traces of something that could've done this, but the police had already cleared a lot away. I'm planning on heading back this afternoon to do another search of his office if they'll let me in." 

Georgie looked impressed. "Nice. If you need some help, let me know."

Sasha gave her a small smile. "Thanks."

Georgie glanced at Martin, then down at the hand still gripping Jon's and nodded. "Thanks for not just leaving him here. He's an idiot when it comes to looking after himself." 

"Don't worry." Sasha sighed. "We know." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In theory, they were all taking turns to keep an eye on Jon, but Tim always stayed an hour late after his shift and Martin always 'accidentally' caught the earlier train. Georgie couldn't blame them, she kept finding herself drawn back to the hospital at random hours with the excuse that she was 'just passing', when in reality she had been nowhere nearby.

In theory, they were all taking turns to keep an eye on Jon, but Tim always stayed an hour late after his shift and Martin always 'accidentally' caught the earlier train. Georgie couldn't blame them, she kept finding herself drawn back to the hospital at random hours with the excuse that she was 'just passing', when in reality she had been nowhere nearby. She was grateful for the company at least, and after the first few times Martin had shown up to find her staring blankly at Jon's unmoving form, he started bringing travel mugs full of tea. It was a million times better than the garbage from the canteen and Georgie accepted it gratefully. 

"I miss him." Martin confessed one time. 

Georgie glanced at him and smiled sympathetically. "The doctors said he should wake up soon."

"Or he won't wake up at all. You've heard them, none of them know what's happening. They're all just guessing."

"They're trying their best."

"He keeps dying, Georgie. His heart keeps stopping." 

"And every time they've managed to bring him back. Take a bit of advice that I learned a long time ago. Don't bet against Jonathan Sims. If he decides to live, he'll live."

"And if he doesn't?" 

Georgie tried to give an encouraging smile. Somewhere down the corridor, one of the other patients had a tv running, the sound drifting out of the open doorway. An actor delivered a unintelligible line, the canned laughter the only giveaway that it had been a joke. A nurse gave directions to someone with squeaky shoes. A phone rang. Someone stepped into the corridor to hide their tears from their family members. 

Georgie patted Martin's hand. "Then we'll deal with that when it happens." 

-

Jon was in hospital for six days total before he woke up. Georgie was on shift, looking over some notes for the next episode of What The Ghost when Jon's voice startled her out of her thoughts. 

"Where's Martin?"

Georgie looked up at Jon. He was staring at her, eyes impassive, bandages across his face stark against his dark skin. 

"Jon-"

"Where is he? Is he safe?"

"Yeah, he's fine." 

Jon sagged with relief, burrowing into the flimsy blue blanket the nurses had lain over him. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths. "And Tim and Sasha?" 

"You scared them, I think." 

He smiled slightly. "They always did care too much. I'm fine." 

"Liar." 

He closed his eyes, a small, fond smile dancing across his lips. "That's fair. How have you been, Georgie?" 

She sighed. "I've been great. A friend recently had an accident that nearly killed him, but he says he's fine now, so that's all solved." 

"Ha. Funny."

She sat forward. "Tell me what happened, Jon. Talk to me."

"I- Later. Please."

"Fine. I'm going to hold you to that."

"I don't doubt that for a moment." Jon looked at her. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears. 

"Jon-"

The dam broke. He reached for her, curling into her arms as she embraced him, hands careful over his still bandaged shoulders. He shook as he cried, soaking a small wet patch into the collar of her shirt. Georgie tried to be soothing, running a hand down his back, feeling the bumps of the dressings under his flimsy hospital gown.

"I was so worried, Jon."

He let out a damp, humourless chuckle. "But you weren't scared." 

Georgie froze. She pulled back. "What did you say?" In all their years of friendship and subsequent awkward relationship, throughout their rocky breakup and hollow promises to remain friends, Georgie had never told him.

Jon had the grace to look at least a little apologetic. "You- Oh."

The door swung open, revealing a startled looking Martin.

"Hey- Jon??"

"Martin." Jon breathed, struggling to sit up. Georgie grabbed his shoulders to stop him from hurting himself. 

Jon tried to shrug her off but Georgie held fast until Martin was around the side of the bed, reaching out to Jon with a soothing hand. Jon took it, sighing with relief, apparently not noticing how red Martin's cheeks turned. 

"Hi Jon."

"You're safe."

"Uh, yeah?"

"Good." Jon nodded. "Good."

"Jon, what happened?" 

Jon looked down at their intertwined hands and said nothing. Georgie was used to Jon's tactic of clamming up and retreating inside himself when things got difficult. In Jon's eyes, no one else needed to be in the line of fire. 

"He promised to tell me later." She said, still staring at Jon, trying to figure out how he knew-

"I will. But I want to have a clear head for it. Once the doctors clear me, I'll explain. I promise." 

Martin made a dissatisfied sound but didn't push him. 

Jon chuckled quietly. "Here comes trouble." 

Georgie frowned and looked at the door just in time for it to open and Tim and Sasha to step through. They blinked, clearly caught off guard by the presence of other people. 

"Did you- Jon, you're awake." Sasha said, leaning around Tim. 

He raised a weak hand and waved at them. "Surprise." 

"Don't start that. Don't you dare." Tim's hand was shaking as he pointed at Jon. "You almost died."

"Not for the first time."

Tim looked like he couldn't decide between being angry and rushing to Jon's side. 

"We were getting lunch down the road and decided to come say hi." Sasha explained, dropping her bag at the foot of Jon's bed. She came around the side of the bed and pressed a quick kiss to Jon's forehead. "Welcome back to the land of the living." 

Jon gave her a mournful look. "Please don't say that." 

"Sorry boss, but she's right." Tims shoulders slumped and he dropped into one of the terrible plastic chairs. "You look like shit." 

"There's no-" Jon closed his eyes, a small frown on his forehead. "You don't need to worry about me."

"And yet here we are." Georgie said, sitting back. "I'm going to get you an in-house babysitter. You cannot be trusted."

"I can look after myself fine." Jon groaned. Martin ran a hand down his arm, muttering something soothing. 

"Yeah, right." Georgie gave him a tense smile. "That's why I'm still your emergency contact rather than literally anyone else."

"Sorry."

"Apologise later."

"I intend to. I have a lot to apologise for."

Sasha frowned. "What does that mean?"

Jon took a deep breath. He waved a hand at himself, a small gesture that somehow encompassed the injuries, the hospital, the worry on his friends faces. "I haven't been the most open person in the past and I intend to change that. Not many people get a second chance like this. You all deserve answers this time around and I refuse to repeat the mistakes that got us here in the first place."

"What mistakes?" Tim leant forward, one hand toying with the edge of Jon's blanket, running the hem through his fingers repeatedly. 

"Later."

"Jon, we aren't going to judge you for getting the shit kicked out of you by a ghost." 

Jon looked away from him, hand tightening on Martin's, who gave him an encouraging pat on the arm, cheeks turning bright red. 

"I'm sorry, I just- I want to explain it properly. I can hardly tell my own thoughts right now, just- When they release me. I promise. I will explain everything." 

Georgie gave him a long look. She'd had promises from Jon before, promises that he wouldn't overwork, that he would remember their anniversary, that he wouldn't be home late. They'd all seemed sincere at the time, but there was only so much she could handle before their relationship started crumbling beneath them. This felt different.

"Look at me, Sims." 

He looked at her.

She held out a hand, pinky finger extended. "Pinky promise?"

He smiled and looped their fingers together. "Pinky promise. Thank you, Georgie."

"Thank me by getting better soon." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a deep phobia of doctors and hospitals and somehow keep forgetting that when i start new fics :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jon gives some answers and somehow explains nothing

Tim's phone rang around lunchtime the next day. He swallowed the last of his muffin and picked up. 

"Hello, this is Tim Stoker, how can I help?" 

"Hey Tim, it's Georgie."

"Oh right, uh, hi? Everything alright?" 

There was a quiet shuffling noise. "All good. They're releasing Jon this afternoon, apparently he's been recovering really well."

"That's good. I can take him back to mine to keep an eye on him if you like."

"Nah, he needs some cat time. I'll take him to mine, he can stay in my spare room for a little while. I didn't know how to get hold of Martin to give him the address so I was hoping you'd pass it on?" 

"Martin?” He frowned. “Why Martin?"

"I thought they- Oh god, I've misread it haven't I."

Tim laughed. "Only on Jon's end. We're pretty sure he hates Martin's guts."

There was a long pause. "Really?" Georgie's voice was full of disbelief. 

"Seems that way."

"But- the hand holding. And Jon asked for Martin when he woke up. It was literally the first words out of his mouth." 

"I think he was just craving tea to be honest. Martin makes the best tea." 

"Huh." There was another shuffling sound. "Interesting."

Another voice said something to Georgie, and she leant away from the phone to respond. Tim didn't catch the words, but it sounded like the professional sympathy of a nurse. 

"Right, I'm going to take him home now. If you guys want to come over after work then you're more than welcome to. I'll get us some takeaway."

"Good call, Jon only eats when he knows he'll be inconvenient if he doesn't." 

Georgie laughed. "He really hasn't changed."

She gave him the address and he scribbled it down, making a mental note to tell it to the others. 

"I'll run over to his flat after work and grab some clothes." 

"Good call. Oh, and Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. Jon's lucky to have you." 

Georgie hung up before he could respond. 

Sasha glanced up over her computer screen. "Who was that?" 

"Georgie, the hospital is releasing Jon so she was just passing on her address."

"Oh nice."

"She said something about Jon..." Tim pondered. 

"Go on?"

"She thinks he likes Martin."

"Really? Why?" 

He shrugged. "No idea."

"I mean, I could see it?" Sasha twirled her pen in her hand. "It's a definite maybe."

"Really!? They’re so different." 

"Are they though? Martin's stubborn as anything and Jon's way more chill than he likes to pretend he is. They balance out."

"Yeah but Jon hates him,” Tim said. “Right?" He added, suddenly unsure. 

"On the surface, maybe, but Martin's a hard worker and Jon respects that, or he would if he got his head out of his ass."

"Huh. I guess so." Tim considered it. "Who would've guessed that they would be the office romance? We're being beaten, James." 

Sasha laughed. "Dream on, Stoker." 

-

"Hey. Come on in." Georgie stepped out of the way to let them into her flat. Tim gave her a grateful smile as she waved them into the living room. 

Jon was curled up on the sofa looking pitiful, a massive ball of grey fur perched primly on his lap. He looked up at them as they entered and Tim's heart broke. In all the time he had known Jon, he had been small, a pocket sized ball of hyperfixations and overworked exhaustion, but swathed in bandages looking like a terrible movie monster, he looked a million times worse. Like all of the times Tim had dragged him away from his desk on the verge of passing out because he hadn't eaten or drank anything for over a day had combined into one singular, awful, bone-deep tiredness. 

"Hey boss." Tim waved, trying to be cheerful. Jon waved back weakly with his bandaged hand. He brightened up when he spotted Martin. 

"Martin." Jon smiled at him. 

Georgie shot Tim a look. He shrugged. 

"Uh, hi Jon." 

Sasha cleared her throat. "So, Georgie, did the hospital give you any instructions?"

Georgie nodded and started listing off all of the different medications she'd been told to give him, as well as the rota for changing his bandages. 

"I am more than capable of handling it all myself." Jon called from the sofa. 

"No you're not." She called back, barely slowing in her tirade. 

Jon sighed and looked down at the ball of fur. "Admiral, can you please inform Miss Barker that I'm fine and she doesn't need to worry?" 

The ball shifted, and two bright blue eyes stared up at him, unblinking. The cat stayed silent. 

"Traitor."

Martin smiled and Tim nudged him towards the sofa. "Martin, go keep him company while I dump his stuff in the spare room."

"Oh right, of course, I'll just- Yep."

"End of the hallway on your left." Georgie called after Tim. As he was leaving, he caught the tail end of Jon introducing Martin to the Admiral, who was apparently the reason Georgie had insisted Jon needed some 'cat time'. From the looks of it, she'd been right. 

Tim dumped the bag of clothes he'd gathered from Jon's flat on the bed and started sorting through it. He'd grabbed some shirts that hopefully wouldn't have too fiddly buttons. He doubted Jon would want to have to rely on assistance to get dressed, and from what the doctors and Georgie had said, Jon wouldn't be able to lift his arms high enough to get a t-shirt over his head. Tim shoved the clothes into the small wardrobe, putting a set of pyjamas on the bed for Jon. 

Back in the main room, Jon was leaning heavily against Martin, apparently having dozed off, one hand gripping Martin's sleeve and the other buried in the cat's fur. 

Tim sighed. "He's the worst, isn't he?" His words had no venom behind them. 

Martin looked up at him. "He's trying."

"Yeah yeah." Tim waved it away, easing himself into an armchair far more comfortable than the plastic seats in the hospital. "I just- I'm worried for him, you know?"

"Yeah." Martin sighed. "Yeah, me too." 

"Jon?" Sasha poked her head out of the kitchen. "Oh, he's asleep?" 

"Yeah, I think he's exhausted.”

“I'm not surprised.” Sasha perched on the arm of Tim's armchair. “He looks so-”

Tim nodded and scrubbed at his face with a hand. He'd struggled to sleep, his night plagued with dreams of Jon stumbling out of his office. 

Georgie came out of the kitchen, waving some pamphlets for a few takeaway places nearby. “Everyone hungry?” 

“Starving.” Sasha said. “Martin, wake him up.” 

“Jon.” Martin put a hand on his shoulder to gently jostle him awake. Jon stirred almost immediately, leaning into Martin's touch as he looked around the room with bleary eyes. 

“What happened?” Jon's hand gripped Martin's sleeve tighter. “Is everything okay?” 

“Everything's fine, we're just going to order food.”

“Oh.” Jon pushed himself to sit upright. “Right. Food.” 

“It's your terrifying ghost adventure, you get to pick the menu.” Georgie held out the pamphlets to him. 

He scrunched up his nose. “I wasn't attacked by a ghost.”

“Sure.” She flapped the glossy sheets of paper. “Food, Sims. You are going to eat it.”

He sighed and took the pages, selecting one seemingly at random. It had the logo for a pizza place on the front. 

“I suppose I should explain things now.” Jon said, looking up at Georgie. 

“Nope.” Tim stood, slapping his hands against his knees. “Food first. You need your strength back.” 

Jon looked like he wanted to argue, but he stayed silent, nodding as Georgie guessed his order. 

The food was ordered and Tim stood to help Georgie gather eating utensils and plates, leaving Sasha to coax Jon into sitting away from Martin for more than a second to allow them both to eat. 

When the food arrived, Sasha opened the boxes to divide them up. 

“Damn,” she said. “They sent the wrong one.”

Tim leaned over her shoulder. “We can phone back if you want.”

“Nah, don't worry about it.” She shrugged. “It's not the end of the world.” 

There was a clatter and the sound of ceramic breaking. Jon was staring at them, his now empty hands trembling, the mug of tea Martin had just handed up now broken on the floor by his feet. 

“Jon?” Sasha's voice was concerned.

“Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't- That was an accident, I'll clean it up, just let me-” He stammered, reaching down to the shards. Martin caught his hands and pulled them away.

“I'll get that.” He carefully picked up the broken pieces, ignoring Jon's faint protests that he could manage it himself. 

“I'm sorry.” Jon whispered again, staring at his hands. 

“It's okay.” Georgie said gently. “No harm in it. Come on, let's get a mop and some food in you, yeah?”

Jon simply nodded and accepted the plate that Sasha handed to him, watching Martin and Georgie clean up the mess with a mournful look on his face. 

By the time they had finished eating, Tim was half worried Jon was going to collapse in on himself from whatever self-inflicted misery was pulling him down further into his chair. 

Plates were cleared, people were moved from the kitchen table to the living room, and it wasn't until Jon was safely cradled by one of Georgie's numerous throw blankets, nestled against a steadily reddening Martin, with the ball of fluff pretending to be a cat curled up on his lap, that Tim felt comfortable enough to ask “So what happened?”

Jon gave him a thin smile. “Which but would you like first?” 

“You going to explain the ribs?” Georgie crossed her arms. 

“The what?” Martin frowned.

“Ribs. He's missing two. The doctors say there was no visible scars from them being removed, and I know for a fact that he used to have them because he cracked one in uni. Jon?” 

Jon sighed. "Jared Hopworth." 

"Who?"

“It's a long story.” 

“Isn't it always?” Georgie sighed. 

"No, I'm sorry, I said I would explain. Just, please don't-”

"If you say don't worry about it then I will put you back in the hospital myself." Tim crossed his arms. "What happened?"

Jon's jaw tightened. "It's not that I don't want to tell you." 

"You sure about that?" Sasha put her hands on her hips. "Because you seem to be avoiding the subject quite a lot."

"Not out of a wish to be difficult." Jon said, ignoring Tim's answering scoff. "I promise you that I fully intend to answer all of your questions. It's simply- That's the wrong place to start. Trust me."

"And what is the right place? Come on, Jon." 

He sighed and sagged backwards into the sofa. "I know how ridiculous this is going to sound, but- Please just hear me out before you laugh me off.” 

Sasha gave him an encouraging smile. “We promise.”

“Thank you.” Jon took a deep breath and glanced over at Martin. “I- I'm from the future.”

Tim couldn't stifle the small, surprised giggle. Jon immediately shrank back, burrowing further into his small nest of Martin and cat fur. 

“No, sorry, I didn't- I'm not laughing at you, Jon, that's just- That's a pretty wild thing to say.” 

“I know, that's why I asked you to hear me out.”

“Right, right.” Tim held up his hands in surrender. “Please continue.” 

Jon gave him a long, tired look. “I know how it sounds, but believe me, it's nowhere near the strangest thing I’m going to say. Yes, the concept of time travel is still, even now, somewhat difficult to wrap my head around, but- It's not in the realm of impossibility. Unless- alternate dimensions are also an option, I suppose.” He took a deep breath. “When, or possibly where, I'm from, the world has ended. Beings of immense power have taken control of our world and moulded it into their own personal plaything. It was-” He closed his eyes. “It was a living nightmare. And I was part of it.” 

“Part of it how?” Georgie asked slowly.

Jon smiled mirthlessly. “It could be argued that it was my fault.” 

“Bullshit.”

“Tim!” Sasha admonished. 

“No, I'm sorry, but there's no way you would end the world.”

Jon grimaced. “I thought that once too. Believe me, it wasn't intentional. These beings, they had been influencing our world for a long time, and one in particular had chosen me to be its catalyst for the apocalypse. They manifest as fear, feed on it. I know how ridiculous it sounds,” He added, catching Tim's frown. “But trust me when I say that it makes far more sense than you think. Have you ever felt like you were being watched, caught sight of something out the corner of your eye, felt like the people around you know things they couldn't possibly know about you?”

Martin blanched slightly. “Yeah.”

“That's the Beholding. The fear of Knowing and being Known.” 

“How many are there?” Sasha asked. 

“It's hard to say.” Jon’s finger was tracing a series of circles on the blanket. “Short answer, fifteen.” 

“And the long answer?” Georgie piped up. 

Jon took a deep breath. “They blend together. Overlap. They coexist as one network. Differentiating between them can get blurry.”

Tim cocked his head to the side. “So it's just everything we're scared of?”

“Pretty much.”

“Heights?”

Jon nodded. “The Vast.”

“Confined spaces?”

“The Buried.”

“Fire?” That one was from Martin. 

“The Desolation.” 

“Spiders?”

Jon shuddered. “The Web. They've been pulling all of the strings for a while now.”

“Huh, wild.” Tim's knee was bouncing as he listened, pent up energy needing some escape. 

“Tim, your brother, Danny.”

Tim stilled. “What about him?”

“I know what happened to him.” Jon gave him a sympathetic look. “I know what killed him.” 

Tim was shaking his head before he'd properly processed the words. “No. How could you possibly know that?”

“Because you told me. Sort of, you gave a statement about it. The Circus serves the Stranger, the fear of the unknown. We needed to stop a ritual that they were attempting.”

“Danny was killed by a group of nutjobs in some tunnels. Not by a cult serving a fear god or whatever bullshit-”

Sasha put a hand on Tim's arm. “Jon, you know how this sounds, right?” 

He groaned in frustrations “Yes, I do, but-”

“What about people who can't feel fear?”

Tim looked over at Georgie. She was sitting very still, staring at a spot on the coffee table. 

“The apocalypse didn't quite touch them.” Jon said carefully. “They could pull others out of the hellscapes they were trapped in.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. 

“The word cult may have been thrown around. And prophet.” 

She grimaced. Tim shook his head. “Sorry, this is all-” He trailed off, letting out a disbelief huff. 

“A bit much? Welcome to my world.” 

“It's ridiculous, Jon. Impossible. And I don't see how it relates to you being hospitalised. Jon, just-”

“Tim.” Martin said sharply. He was sitting where he had always been, next to Jon on the sofa, letting Jon lean into his body weight, but his hands were curled into fists and his shoulders were tense. “Don't.”

“I'm sorry, it's just-”

“Jon asked us to hear him out. So let's do that.” 

The look Martin gave him said there was no room for arguments. Sighing, Tim sat back, ignoring the glance Sasha sent his way. “Fine. I'm sorry.”

“Thank you.” Jon said, shoulder’s relaxing. “The injuries I sustained last week were an amalgamation of injuries acquired over several years. They're marks from all of the different fears, it was part of the ritual that ended the world. I don't- Please don't ask me for details. The memories aren't pleasant.”

Martin looked a little heartbroken. He put a hand on top of Jon's where it was curled in the blanket. “What can we do to help?” 

Jon shrugged halfheartedly. “I need to stop it from happening again. I need to save you all, I need to stop the bad people from doing bad things. I-” He let out a single, sharp laugh. “I need to save the world. Again.” 

“Then we're with you.” Martin said resolutely. 

“Martin, I- I can't ask that of you. I've already put you through so much, it's not-”

“Too late. I'm not abandoning you over this, Jon.” 

Jon smiled sadly and gently looped their hands together, his bandaged hand curling slightly around Martin's. “I don't deserve you. I never did.” 

“Tough.” Martin shrugged. “You've got me.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” Jon whispered, staring down at the interwoven hands.

“So what's the plan?” Sasha asked. “Besides you recovering from all of this.” She waved a hand at him. 

Jon looked up at them, blinking. “You all believe me?”

Georgie gave him a shrug. “It's insane but you've seen my job. It would be a bit hypocritical of me to doubt it.” 

A smile tugged on the corners of Jon's mouth. He glanced at Sasha and Tim. 

“When you asked us to come work in the archives, did you know?” Sasha said carefully. “About any of this?” 

“I didn't.”

“How many of us survived last time?” 

The smile vanished. “Sasha, I'm so sorry.”

“Let me guess.” Tim closed his eyes. “A wax museum?” 

Jon frowned. “How did you-”

“Because I've been having dreams about it. It's nice to know that they're prophetic rather than just regular garden nightmares.”

Jon shook his head. “I'm so sorry. Have the rest of you…?”

Sasha nodded. “Artefact storage. My hands weren't my own.”

“A cabin.” Martin whispered. “The window was broken.”

Jon looked at Georgie, who nodded. “My flat. Someone else was there, but I couldn't see who.”

“Melanie. She's probably been having them as well.”

Georgie smiled slightly. “She'll be pissed about that.” 

He smiled back, a genuine, warm thing, not one of the hollow, exhausted, half-formed ones that had been adorning his face so far. “Thank you all.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on you, Jon.” Tim said, feeling the old, familiar feeling that came with worrying about Jonathan Sims slowly returning to his heart. “Who knows what you'll do otherwise.”

“Ha. Technically I know everything. I'm a servant of one of the entities, the Beholding, it gives me the power to know pretty much anything and to force people to answer my questions. Comes with the territory. The archives are a temple to it, none of us can quit without blinding ourselves.”

There was a beat.

“Jon, what the fuck?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is going to be fun :)

**Author's Note:**

> ill stop writing tma time travel fics when jonny lets the characters be happy 
> 
> come find me [on tumblr,](https://oakleaf--bearer.tumblr.com/) [on twitter,](https://twitter.com/oakleaf_bearer) or [on insta](https://www.instagram.com/statement_boo_gins/)
> 
> title from 'fixing a hole' by the beatles


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